


The Trials and Triumphs of the Unmarried Sister

by Eliza49



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Persuasion - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Genre: Anne Elliot is married, Caroline Bingley is in want of a husband, Elizabeth Bennet is married, F/M, Lucy Steele is married, Sequel to Pride and Prejudice & Persuasion & Sense and Sensibility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliza49/pseuds/Eliza49
Summary: In which the author invites the reader to consider the plight of Caroline Bingley.CONTENTSChapter One: (Prologue) Friendships formed in Bath(in which Miss Caroline Bingley and Miss Elizabeth Elliot become acquainted.)Chapter Two: Theatricals in London(in which Miss Bingley meets Mr Elliot and calls on the Darcys.)Chapter Three: An Intimate Gathering of Dear Friends(in which Mrs Hurst has a birthday and Lucy Ferrars gives offence.)Chapter Four: The Mortifications of a Morning’s Tête-à-tête(in which Miss Darcy speaks with good intentions and Miss Bingley listens with reluctance.)Chapter Five: A Tale of Two Widows(in which Miss Bingley and the reader learn the history of a paid companion.)Chapter Six: Reputations in Peril(in which an engagement is announced and a daughter runs away).Chapter Seven: (Epilogue) The Heir to Kellynch Hall(in which all is well that ends not so very ill.)
Relationships: Caroline Bingley & Elizabeth Elliot, Caroline Bingley & Georgiana Darcy, Caroline Bingley/ William Elliot, Caroline Bingley/Walter Elliot, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 65
Kudos: 127





	1. (Prologue) Friendships formed in Bath (in which Miss Caroline Bingley and Miss Elizabeth Elliot become acquainted).

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Pride and Prejudice/ Persuasion cross-over fic.
> 
> I’m not sure what made me want to write a story about Caroline Bingley of Pride and Prejudice, except perhaps that recently I reread Jane Austen’s Lady Susan, and I also rewatched the film adaptation of Lady Susan, Love and Friendship. Then I read Whit Stillman’s completely hilarious novelization of his own film, Love & Friendship: In Which Jane Austen's Lady Susan Vernon is Entirely Vindicated. (If you haven’t read this, I highly recommend it – it’s brilliant, as is the film.) I think all this may have put lots of deeply ironic, slightly cynical ideas and stories into my head, and this is the result! For some added warmth, the Darcy family (Elizabeth, Georgiana and Fitzwilliam) crop up as supporting characters, as do the Wentworths (Anne and Frederick), which means that I have included some genuinely kind, caring people, who do actually love one another. (I’ve also included the Palmers and Lucy Ferrars from Sense and Sensibility in Chapter 3, although I think they serve to add to the cynicism really, rather than counteracting it!)
> 
> (Please indulge the chapter titles, which went a little bit Henry Fielding.)
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Xx

Miss Caroline Bingley and Miss Elizabeth Elliot were both of an age where, if marriage is the desired object, its attainment becomes a matter of some anxiety. It was true that neither had an immediate, pecuniary need of matrimony, since each had relations able to offer protection and a comfortable home. Yet, whilst Miss Elliot enjoyed the advantage of being mistress of her father’s house, there remained uncertainty over what would become of her after her father’s death, a question acutely felt by his three daughters, even if the possibility of such an event never seemed to strike their complacent father. Elizabeth felt also the mortification of having two younger sisters already married, and of living in a world seemingly ignorant of her own superior claims to beauty and deservedness.

For Miss Bingley, who had independent means bequeathed to her by parents already departed, there was the more immediately irksome matter of having no home to preside over, and of being always a house guest in the home of either her sister or brother. Since it was not Miss Bingley, but _Mrs._ Bingley, who was the mistress of the estate purchased by Mr. Bingley after his marriage, and since Mrs. Hurst’s accommodation was not nearly so grand as her brother’s, the inconvenience of her circumstances was of late acutely felt by Caroline, who wished very much for the domestic benefits offered by matrimony. It was true that she had the means to set up a home of her own, perhaps with a lady companion to make an establishment of this kind less lonely, but such a situation would bring no elevation in respectability and importance; rather it might advance her prematurely towards spinsterhood. In consequence, she chose instead to visit Bath in the company of the Hursts, in search of both pleasure and opportunity.

It was in these well-matched circumstances that the two ladies met and became firm friends. Each saw in the other the advantages of company whilst out in society, as well as a means of widening her own acquaintance with gentlemen who might prove eligible; and each professed great affection for, and devotion to, the other, whilst thinking principally of herself. It was undoubtedly a happy association in meeting so many selfish, urgently felt demands.

The Elliots’ close friend, Lady Russell, approved of the growing intimacy between the two ladies, and wrote warmly of it to Miss Elliot’s sister, Mrs Wentworth: “Miss Bingley is a very handsome, elegant young lady, of good sense and education, and from a thoroughly respectable family, albeit one whose fortune was acquired by trade. She can do nothing but raise your sister’s and father’s standing here in Bath, and you will no doubt be very pleased to hear that she is a much more desirable friend for Elizabeth than past, unsuitable choices.”

Anne Wentworth, who knew very well that Lady Russell valued good breeding and fortune much more strongly than she did herself, resolved to reserve judgement on Miss Bingley until she met her, which would no doubt occur on Anne’s projected visit to Bath later in the year. In truth she was a great deal less anxious on the subject of her father’s and sister’s associations than Lady Russell supposed, despite the fact that past experience, in the shape of the flattering, resourceful widow, Mrs Clay, had proven Sir Walter’s susceptibility to unprincipled ladies, and Elizabeth’s insensibility to such dangers. Anne was not insensible, but she was now much more occupied with the dangers that Captain Wentworth would face on his voyage to North Africa in four months’ time, and with the fact that this time, as the mother of a new, baby girl, she herself would not accompany him. Both she and Frederick were filled with joy and anxiety, afforded by their daughter and by their imminent separation, and so had little time for events in Bath. In short, Anne, having for most of her life placed her sisters’ demands and desires above her own, now had others to care for; and as Mrs Wentworth, she could not help but feel that Miss Elliot’s manner of living was not so very precarious or taxing that she should not reasonably expect to shift for herself from time to time.

Miss Bingley became a regular visitor at Camden Place, and the Elliots and Lady Russell, were also invited to dine, take tea, and play cards in the elegant apartments of Mr and Mrs Hurst. Busy as she was in congratulating herself on the value of such new acquaintances, Lady Russell was not nearly so quick to suspect in Miss Bingley the motives she had readily recognised in Mrs Clay. Understanding dawned for her at the same time as it did for Elizabeth, who was much sharper in detecting a threat from the fashionable, wealthy Miss Bingley, than she had been from the freckled, gap-toothed Mrs Clay, who had after all come to Bath as Miss Elliot’s own, dependent companion.

Lady Russell, having encountered Sir Walter, Miss Elliot and Miss Bingley by chance one afternoon in the tea rooms of the Sydney Hotel and taken a stroll with them through the agreeable sights of Sydney Gardens, found that Sir Walter was proposing to neglect an invitation to dine with Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, in favour of an evening at the theatre with Mrs Hurst and her sister. It was this surprising development which alerted both Lady Russell and Elizabeth to the power which Miss Bingley held over the baronet.

“Upon my word, our cousins cannot expect to have the whole of Bath at their feet every night,” exclaimed Sir Walter, who was in truth growing a little tired of the need to give, rather than receive, flattery when it came to his illustrious relations. The apparent admiration of an elegant, young lady such as Miss Bingley had caused the baronet to feel strongly what was due to his own person – though in truth this was by no means an estimation he had overlooked in the past. He drew Miss Bingley’s arm through his and, patting her hand, declared an evening at the theatre to be an excellent notion.

“Papa,” cried Elizabeth askance. “We are talking of _Lady Dalrymple_.”

Miss Bingley, seeing that Sir Walter had expressed too marked a preference for both theatricals and his present company, hastily detached herself from Sir Walter’s grasp, and professed a great desire for the evening's entertainment with dear Miss Elliot, with the amendment that it should take place on another night. But the damage was done, and Elizabeth went home to reflect on what her father's extraordinary behavior might mean. The result was a note to Miss Bingley declaring that the play in question was not to Miss Elliot’s taste, and that she had a severe headache which she anticipated could not possibly leave her for a week or more.

Miss Bingley was not deceived, and after some consultation with her sister, decided that a sojourn to London was called for. “The gentleman will resolve the question if he fears losing your company and good opinion, no matter how much his daughter's head may hurt!” advised the sagacious Mrs. Hurst. “Mark my words, it does not do to be too readily attainable. Remember, when Mr. Hurst and I became engaged - why, we were apart for weeks at a time beforehand, and I am sure if it had not been so, we would neither of us have been inclined to marry!”

The observations of the already married are not always encouraging to those contemplating matrimony in the hope that domestic felicity will follow. On this occasion, however, Mrs Hurst’s advice was sound enough for any young lady hoping to secure a match regardless of its suitability, and this was in truth closer to Miss Bingley’s current state of mind. That Mrs Hurst did not stop to consider whether such feelings should be encouraged in a younger, unmarried sister reflected perhaps the depth of her own understanding, compassion and marital feelings.

Caroline Bingley, without the protection of affectionate parents, and thwarted and mortified in her past matrimonial goals, had no friend to persuade her of the folly of her chosen path. Had she remained in Bath and in the tiresome company of Sir Walter and his daughter, her own intelligence, which was high, and self-interest, which was higher, might have guided her actions more wisely. But instead she left for London, piqued, but still determined to become the next Lady Elliot.

Sir Walter, meanwhile, missed the flattery of Miss Bingley’s company exceedingly, and he resented his oldest daughter’s susceptibility to ill-timed headaches. In consequence, he began for the first time to consider whether Elizabeth’s presence, as mistress of his household, might be an encumbrance to his own convenience and happiness…


	2. Theatricals in London (in which Miss Bingley meets Mr Elliot and calls on the Darcys).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have read the first part of this and left encouraging comments and kudos. I realise that there are some niche pairings in this story! In this chapter, and in chapters three and four, the Darcy family features quite a lot, because likeable people help us through fiction (both writing and reading it), as well as life. :)

Miss Bingley’s sister had told her that partings often precipitate betrothals, and in London Mrs. Hurst’s advice was to prove its worth, at least insofar as Caroline herself feeling better able to appreciate the benefits of marrying a baronet, when Sir Walter’s mature figure and dull conversation were not constantly before her. Miss Elliot having spurned the theatricals of Bath, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley arrived in London in a state of high appreciation of the theatre, and they soon took up the opportunity to embrace the superior delights of London entertainment. 

“It can do no harm at all,” declared Mrs. Hurst, “for Miss Elliot to know that you are not dependent on _her_ for society and pleasure. And it can certainly do no harm for _Sir Walter_ to know it too.”

The sisters were waiting to purchase tickets at Covent Garden, Mr. Hurst having been abandoned by the ladies in Russell Street after falling asleep in the carriage.

“I do not believe _Miss Elliot_ can visit London whenever she chooses,” continued Mrs. Hurst, “for they have had to rent out Kellynch Hall to Admiral Croft, whose brother by marriage is married to one of her sisters. The Elliots have exceeded their income, by all accounts most irresponsibly, and now they are paying the price.”

This allusion to Sir Walter’s pecuniary difficulties was not particularly agreeable to Caroline, and she was about to scold her sister for repeating foolish gossip, when the gentleman in front of them, who was about to purchase his ticket, unexpectedly turned and subjected them to a moment of marked scrutiny.

“Ladies,” he said amiably after a moment, “I confess I have been standing here with my head in the clouds and have not in the least considered which evening I am free to attend the play. If you would do me the honour of going first, I shall use my time more profitably, and consult my engagements whilst you procure your tickets. Please,” he gestured for the two ladies to pass him, ”I assure you it really would be an act of kindness if you were to take my place.”

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst did as they were bid, and as Caroline turned to leave, she ventured to curtsey her thanks towards the indecisive stranger to whom they were obliged. The gentleman raised his hat, and showed them with his bow and his smile that his features, air and person were all very pleasing.

“You must be very much engaged, sir,” observed Caroline boldly, gesturing towards the gentleman’s appointments book, which he now held in his hand, “if the business of finding a free evening for a play should prove so difficult.”

“Are we not all busy in London?” asked the gentleman. “There is so much to do and see, so much to attend to – and so many morning visitors, who call and leave their cards, whilst we are out calling on those who left their cards the day before.” Miss Bingley smiled. “And for all the town appears such a bewildering throng,” continued the gentleman, “we are continually meeting with people who are known to us, or who are friends with our most intimate friends. Indeed, I believe we ourselves may have acquaintance in common. My cousin, Elizabeth Elliot, is perhaps a friend of yours? Forgive me, but I think I heard you mention her name.”

Mrs. Hurst was immediately thrown into confusion, and she coloured deeply, for fear of having been overheard abusing the gentleman’s near relations. Miss Bingley, however, was not so easily overcome, being possessed of greater presence of mind, and a more practiced talent for hypocrisy, than was her sister. Moreover, she strongly suspected that the gentleman now before them was none other than Mr. Elliot, heir to Kellynch Hall, and she had heard his name so immoderately abused by Elizabeth, as to comprehend very well that Mr. Elliot was not on good terms with his cousins, and in particular had slighted Elizabeth by raising and disappointing her matrimonial hopes. Caroline was therefore able to reply with every appearance of composure that they were indeed very great friends of dear Miss Elliot, whom, she was happy to report, they had recently left in excellent health in Bath. (Miss Bingley had never regarded seriously Elizabeth’s suffering prognostication that she was about to endure a headache for at least a week.)

Mr. Elliot, for it was indeed he, showed no signs of having heard anything to give offence, professed himself delighted with the connection, and immediately fell in with them as they returned to their carriage. On being introduced to Mr. Hurst, he remained sanguine in the face of that gentlemen’s bad humour – Mr. Hurst being equally out of sorts for having been woken up, and for having been left behind whilst he slept – and handed the two ladies into their carriage with great cordiality. He then returned to the theatre with a view to purchasing his ticket for the play, whilst the two ladies praised his excellent manners, and Mr. Hurst attempted to recover from his own, discourteous inclinations.

The evening of the play arrived, and Miss Bingley was not entirely surprised to find that Mr. Elliot had a ticket for the same night that they had booked themselves, and was in a box adjacent to their own. So began her acquaintance with Mr. Elliot, and soon she and the Hursts were on just as excellent terms with the heir to Kellynch Hall, as they had been in Bath with its current proprietor. Thus for Caroline Bingley there now arose a difficult dilemma, for the longer she remained in London, the more uncertain she became as to whether she would be better served by being the wife of the current, or of the future, baronet.

Undoubtedly Mr. Elliot, who was set one day to become Sir William, was a man of a great deal more sense than was Sir Walter, his company was more congenial, and he was also more youthful and more pleasing to behold. In these respects he was a much more appealing matrimonial prospect than was the present baronet. Yet Mr. Elliot was also a man of a careful, calculating disposition, and Miss Bingley was extremely shrewd when it came to recognizing those with similar, self-interested feelings to her own. Her failure with her brother’s great friend, Mr. Darcy, had left her a little uncertain of her own power to attach fine-looking, wealthy, young gentlemen, and she sensed that pursuit of Mr. Elliot contained a high element of risk. Guided by Elizabeth’s bitterness, and by certain other rumours that had reached her whilst in Bath, she suspected him of a cold, dangerous ruthlessness beneath his outward courtesy and charm.

With Sir Walter, meanwhile, she was very confident of her influence, for she had relative youth and considerable beauty to offer him, both of which held higher currency for him than they did for Mr. Elliot, given the scarcity of their availability with his own advancing years. That Sir Walter’s vanity was flattered, and that he liked her very well, had been clear to her from the beginning of their acquaintance, and she felt that as his wife she would be able to persuade him on many points. The blot on this prospect was of course Elizabeth, who would need to be placated and disposed of in some way, if Caroline were to hold court at Kellynch Hall as Sir Walter’s second wife.

Miss Bingley was determined that she would be Lady Elliot of Kellynch, and not Lady Elliot of a rented house in Camden Place, and this was a consideration which also influenced her ideas. Her own fortune might restore Sir Walter to Kellynch Hall, but there would be the need to curb his extravagance if they were to remain there, and if her income were not to be entirely squandered on the Elliots’ selfish demands. Mr. Elliot, meanwhile, was a widower who, thanks to the fortune acquired through his marriage to a lowborn but wealthy woman, could easily support them both in very comfortable style, once he succeeded to the baronetcy. Moreover, since he was young, and likely to live longer after marriage than was Sir Walter, it was also in his power to offer his wife tenure of Kellynch for a much more lengthy period than could Sir Walter. For if she were to become the second wife of the present baronet she would of course have to give way, once her husband died and Mr. Elliot became Sir William.

When her thoughts on the subject were at their most calculating and ingenious, she could not help considering that if she were to give Sir Walter a son and heir, then she might succeed in combining the advantages of both matches. As the mother, rather than the wife, of a baronet she would be able to remain at Kellynch long after Sir Walter’s death, and she would thereby enjoy all the privileges of being Lady Elliot, without the encumbrance of the husband through whom she had gained her position. In such a circumstance, Mr. Elliot would never become Sir William, and her own happiness need not be tethered to the caprice of such a cold-blooded, inscrutable man. It might even be in her power to send away from Kellynch any unmarried, unwanted, daughter remaining there from Sir Walter’s first, supplanted marriage. However, here she checked herself, not so much out of scruple or delicacy, but from her recollection of Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn, who had sought to secure her future through the birth of a son to inherit the estate, and had thereby become the mother of five, burdensome daughters instead. The attractions of Sir Walter were certainly not heightened by the thought that it might prove necessary to bear him a great many children, and that to do so could just as easily render her own future more precarious rather than more secure.

*

It was whilst Miss Bingley was in this state of disquieting indecision that the Darcy family arrived in London – Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, their two small infants, and Miss Georgiana Darcy, who was in town to buy her wedding trousseau for her forthcoming nuptials to a Mr. Snowdon. It was now more than four years since Mr. Darcy’s marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a young lady of no fortune and very little standing. This event had caused extreme mortification to Miss Bingley at the time, for she had dearly hoped to secure Mr. Darcy for herself: whilst there had never been great warmth of feeling on either side, Mr. Darcy was related to an ancient, noble line, his income was ten thousand pounds a year, and he was the proprietor of a very grand estate in Derbyshire. All of these considerations had been more than enough to persuade Miss Bingley that his character was everything she could ever wish for in a husband. Accordingly, she had devoted great energy to her attempts to flatter the gentleman into admiration, only to have him pay his addresses instead to Miss Bennet, whose manner towards him was, in Miss Bingley’s view, arch to the point of impertinence.

Outwardly Mr. Darcy’s marital choice was entirely forgiven, but in Caroline’s heart and mind there remained a great deal of hurt pride. “I suppose we _must_ see them,” sighed Caroline in plaintive tones, on finding that Mrs. and Miss Darcy had left their cards whilst she and her sister were visiting a gallery in the amenable company of Mr. Elliot (and the taciturn presence of Mr. Hurst). “It will have to be at a time of our choosing, however, for they live such secluded lives at Pemberley most of the year, and I am sure _our_ circle of London acquaintance is much greater than _theirs.”_

“Mrs. Darcy writes in her note that we are much better placed than she is to advise Georgiana on the latest fashions,” remarked Mrs. Hurst.

“Well, _that_ is certainly true,” replied Miss Bingley, and the sisters laughed at the inferiority of their friends’ country tastes (although in truth Mrs. Darcy‘s looks were generally admired in London society, and her likeness had been viewed by both ladies in the very gallery they had visited that morning).

Mrs. Darcy was one of the five, Longbourn daughters whose births had failed to secure the future family inheritance for their optimistic mother. However, Mrs. Bennet’s early disappointment in the prospects of her children was later consoled by a twofold triumph, for on the very day, and in the very church, that Miss Elizabeth married Fitzwilliam Darcy, the eldest Miss Bennet was also joined in matrimony to Charles, the younger brother of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Whilst such wounds still smarted, Caroline was nothing if not artful and ingenious in the society she kept, and for the sake of her brother (and the advantages she enjoyed in being his sister), as well as for the sake of Mr. Darcy’s Derbyshire estate (and the distinction to be gained from being able to say she visited there), she took great care to keep on good terms with both the former Miss Bennets. So it was that she and Mrs. Hurst returned the morning call paid by Mrs. and Miss Darcy at the earliest opportunity the next day.

There was on this occasion a little, local awkwardness also to be overcome as regards Miss Darcy. Miss Bingley’s correspondence with this young lady was both frequent and affectionate, but unfortunately the intimacy of this friendship was not always fully comprehended by Miss Darcy, who had not only neglected to inform Caroline of her engagement, but had also entirely failed to mention the gentleman in question in any of her recent letters. However, a morning of lively confidence soon did away with all resentments, and Caroline listened with every appearance of warm interest and assent when Miss Darcy exclaimed happily, “Truly, I believe Mr. Snowdon to be the very best of men. Even my brother thinks very highly of his understanding and good sense, and there is no one who is a more discerning judge of character!”

“A clergyman!” derided Mrs. Hurst later, the visit having afforded the sisters the pleasurable epilogue of a good deal of private disparagement.

“No wonder she kept it quiet,” agreed Miss Bingley. “He is _nothing_. Or rather, he is an archdeacon, which means he would certainly be no one were it not for her brother’s patronage.”

Mrs. Hurst concluded these kind remarks with the observation that Miss Darcy’s match was one to rival the paltry ambition of her brother’s marriage, and that it must be a peculiarity of the Darcy pride that they desired always to feel themselves the much superior party in any domestic union.

Miss Bingley concurred, having apparently forgotten that her own efforts to attract Mr. Darcy had been through flattery, and that she was wont to condemn Mrs. Darcy for her conceited pertness and presumption in her behaviour towards her husband. Of course such recollections would not have suited Caroline’s present purpose, which was to make clear that the Darcy family, though well-connected in its way, was by virtue of its country habits, seclusion and modest marriages, not nearly so fashionable or eligible as Mr. Darcy’s wealth alone might suggest. In short, she was now determined to believe that it was more desirable for a young lady to become, by one means or another, the mistress of Kellynch Hall in Somersetshire, rather than of Pemberley in Derbyshire.

*


	3. An Intimate Gathering of Dear Friends (in which Mrs. Hurst has a birthday and Lucy Ferrars gives offence).

Miss Bingley may have settled it that Mr. Darcy was not worth regretting, but this did not prevent his presence in London from influencing Caroline as regards her current marital predicament. The thought of being seen by Mr. and Mrs. Darcy as the object of a very eligible gentleman’s admiration proved an irresistible balm to past, wounded sensibilities, and as a consequence, the claims of Mr. William Elliot soon began to rise above those of his more senior cousin in Bath.

Caroline now wished to encourage Mr. Elliot’s interest in her, and her principal motive in this was that she wanted the Darcy family to witness her conquest. The solace and exultation to be gained from such a victory caused her to set aside her previous reservations as regards the gentleman, and she soon ceased to consider Mr Elliot’s character in any serious light at all, beyond how she might be perceived herself as the apparent recipient of his affections. At the same time, she also began a campaign which was every bit as earnest in its determined focus as her pursuit of Mr. Darcy had ever been.

As a means of retribution against former slights, her scheme was faulty, for it depended upon Mr. Elliot falling in love with her, or at least admiring her enough to persuade others that he loved her. The first contingency was one she had hitherto doubted as being in her power to bring about, whilst the second placed an immediate, temporary gratification of vanity above the more profitable outcome of securing a proposal – which had previously been her sole purpose in making the acquaintance of the Elliot family.

Caroline also overlooked the probability that, since Mr. Darcy loved the lady he had married, her own romantic fortunes or otherwise were likely to excite in him only the mildest of passing interest. In this, she was blinded by the very self-regard which often guided her to act with designing ingenuity, for although her pride had been very much hurt by Mr. Darcy’s preference for another, she nevertheless found it difficult truly to comprehend any drama in which she was not herself the most important player.

*

Some weeks after Miss Bingley first embarked on this project as regards Mr. Elliot, she put it to her brother-in-law that they should host an evening at home to mark the birthday of Mrs. Hurst. Her goal on this occasion was to bring together old friends with new, so that Mr. Elliot’s attentions towards her, which she was persuaded were growing more marked, might be witnessed by Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.

Mr. Hurst agreed to Caroline’s suggestion as regards the forthcoming anniversary, an understanding having been reached that the business of organizing a celebration in his own home, in honour of his own wife, should be undertaken by someone other than Mr. Hurst’s own self. Miss Bingley happily consented to preside over all the arrangements, thereby making the occasion as much hers as it was her sister’s

“It will be just the thing!” exclaimed Caroline. “An intimate gathering of dear, close friends. That is exactly what Louisa would wish for whilst in London.”

In fact, none of their London engagements in recent weeks suggested any such modest tastes on the part of Mrs. Hurst, but Miss Bingley knew very well that a large party would be unlikely to procure Mr. Darcy’s approval or his presence. Moreover, a small stage was undoubtedly desirable, if Caroline were to succeed in her object of performing at its centre for the duration of the evening.

Miss Bingley’s brother and his wife were not yet in town, and Caroline was glad of it, for she had no wish that an evening intended to bring distinction to herself and her sister should also afford a happy, sisterly reunion between Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy. Instead, she elected to invite a Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, Mr. Palmer being a friend of Mr. Hurst’s, to whom Miss Bingley had been recently introduced. The gentleman in question was habitually ill-tempered when in society, but he was also making a name for himself in Parliament, and in consequence Caroline felt that his presence might lend dignity to the evening, particularly in the eyes of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Elliot. Moreover, Mrs. Palmer was the sister of a Lady Middleton of Devonshire, and whilst she was tolerably pretty, she was also married, very silly, and too plump to be considered elegant according to Caroline’s particular estimation. She therefore boasted the advantages of being sufficiently distinctive to brighten the Hursts’ dinner table, whilst not being so noteworthy as to surpass anyone in any way that mattered.

“Mrs. Palmer will do very well,” agreed Mrs. Hurst, “And there is no necessity to listen to her, for she is happy to talk whether she is attended to or not.”

*

The evening and their guests arrived.

Regrettably Mrs. Palmer turned out to be a guest who brought with her another – uninvited – guest, namely a Mrs. Robert Ferrars, formerly of Plymouth, now residing in Berkeley Square. This was a distant cousin, who was staying with the Palmers for no other reason than because her forthcoming confinement in the spring had led her to feel that she was too delicate to be in the company of her own husband (even in Berkeley Square), when his head was full of cold.

“It is excessively kind of Mrs. Hurst not to mind our bringing Lucy,” observed Mrs. Palmer to the room at large, shortly after their arrival. Then, apparently struck by an amusing thought, she remarked gaily, “Though indeed, if she were to mind, it would be altogether too late now!”

In truth, the addition was not entirely welcome, not only because of domestic concerns, such as whether the white soup would stretch (Mr. Hurst being habitually possessed of a very hearty appetite), but also because Lucy Ferrars had been in the past a young lady of minor notoriety on account of her marriage. When a mere Miss Steele, she had eloped with the younger brother of a gentleman to whom she had been secretly engaged for several years, after her betrothed was disinherited in favour of this brother upon his family’s discovery of the secret engagement. These events did not speak well of the former Miss Steele’s propriety or her eligibility, and there was also little in Mrs. Ferrars’ conversation and manner to suggest great accomplishment or understanding. Moreover, Caroline was not disposed to look kindly, in her present state of anxiety for her own future, on remarkable success when it came to the marital schemes of unremarkable, young ladies. All this meant that Mrs. Ferrars might (and indeed did) boast volubly of her house in Mayfair, but Miss Bingley simply would not be persuaded that the lady in question truly belonged there or deserved her very good luck.

Fortunately for Lucy, although she was much pleased with her situation in life, she was nevertheless possessed of a most useful talent for sycophantic humility, which had previously secured the forgiveness of Mrs. Ferrars senior, and which she now deployed with considerable energy towards Mrs. Hurst. This ensured that she was snubbed by Miss Bingley during the course of the evening, but not by her elder sister, whose approbation Lucy felt to be much more valuable.

“What a very pleasing house!” simpered Mrs. Ferrars eagerly. “I do not believe I have ever seen such elegance, though to be sure we are used to finery in Berkeley Square. I must tell Mr. Ferrars about the arrangement of this drawing room, for he is always so much in fashion, and will want to hear of it, I am sure.”

“You are quite right,” agreed Mrs. Palmer happily. “I have never seen anything to rival this room. And yet, at the same time, I should have said it was exactly like the Blue Room at Delaford. Do not you think so, Lucy? Is it not exactly how Colonel and Mrs. Brandon have done up the room at Delaford where Mrs. Brandon plays her Broadwood Grand? It is a six-octave, you know – so like the Colonel to make such a generous gift to his lovely, young wife.”

“You know perfectly well I have not visited Delaford lately, Charlotte,” replied Mrs. Ferrars in irritable reproach.

Mrs. Palmer let out a peel of merry laughter, as seemed to be her habit, regardless of what was actually said. “How very droll, to think that Mr. Palmer and I are often at Delaford, and you are not, when Mrs. Brandon’s sister is married to Mr. Edward Ferrars, your own husband’s brother. Well, I dare say Mama is right, and you will be forgiven by the Miss Dashwoods, as was, one day eventually. And _then_ you will be welcome in that part of Devonshire again.”

“It is very good of you, Mrs. Palmer,” remarked Miss Bingley with icy civility, “To bring to _us_ those ladies who are not permitted to visit the Brandons of Delaford.”

Despite Miss Bingley’s contempt for Mrs. Ferrars, her enjoyment of the evening was not immediately dulled, for Mr. Elliot availed himself of every opportunity to pay compliments on the excellence of all arrangements, and on the generosity of Mrs. Hurst’s sister in undertaking them. Caroline began to feel she must really be succeeding, for she knew that Mr. Darcy had never been anything near so attentive towards her (even before he became enamoured of Eliza Bennet). For a few hours, Mr. Elliot’s flattery allowed her imagination to take flight, so that soon she was fancying that everyone present must be noticing their guest’s partiality for her, and speculating on the happy event which must surely follow. In this she was perhaps influenced by the extremity of past disappointments, even more than by the urgency of present hopes. Certainly, in her comparison of Mr. Elliot’s behaviour with Mr. Darcy’s, she allowed herself to overlook important differences in the dispositions of these two gentlemen. In short, she wanted to believe herself admired, and so she chose to discount anything which did not fit with this pleasurable idea.

However, Caroline’s reveries were not to last, and they were brought to a rude halt by the malice of one of her guests. Well aware of Miss Bingley’s pointed disdain, Mrs. Ferrars had spent the evening working herself up to a state of considerable ill will. Accordingly, when Mr. Elliot risked a very bold compliment, by declaring that he hoped the future mistress of his own home would be capable of arranging celebrations as heartening as those to be found here, Mrs. Ferrars ventured a response that was even more forthright: “And what of its _present_ _mistress_?” she asked, with reckless incivility. “Of which home do you speak, Mr. Elliot, for I hear it is possible for _some_ gentlemen to _keep several_?”

Mr. Elliot regarded her with real antipathy, before replying, “I am not so fortunate, ma’am,” and then turning away – from her and from Caroline – to speak with Mr. Hurst.

Mrs. Ferrars looked about in haughty triumph: she was willing to take pains to win over Mrs. Hurst, who was the married lady of the house, but Miss Bingley was merely an unmarried hanger-on, whose ambition was pitifully obvious, and who boasted no advantages over the wife of Mr. Robert Ferrars that Mrs. Ferrars herself was prepared to admit. Miss Bingley’s sudden change in pallor, following the insult to Mr. Elliot, left little doubt in the mind of her newly acquired foe that a just revenge had been achieved.

“Good gracious, Lucy, how you do run on!” exclaimed Mrs. Palmer into the ensuing silence at Miss Bingley’s end of the table, and she then proceeded laughingly to run on herself, until Mrs. Hurst rose and signalled for the ladies to withdraw.

Amongst the very small mercies to be dealt Caroline that evening, was the fact that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Darcy heard Mrs. Ferrars’ insolent questions, for they had both from the outset marked out Mr. Palmer as being one of the few dinner guests likely to say anything worth listening to, and were just then attending to his enumeration of reasons why he could not condone the Corn Law. In the case of Miss Darcy, however, Miss Bingley was not so fortunate, and the young lady not only heard exactly what was said, but also turned such a grave, compassionate gaze towards Miss Bingley, as to make clear that she had perfectly understood the allusion being made. It was a look which betrayed concern but not surprise, and this only added to the manifold causes of distress already being experienced by Caroline: it was borne in on her then that the rumours of Mr. Elliot’s dissipation which had reached her in Bath – and which she had repeatedly sought to reason away since the arrival of the Darcys in London – must in fact be generally known. Certainly, it appeared that they had travelled widely enough to have reached the tender, sheltered hearing of Miss Georgiana Darcy, who for most of the year lived as far afield as Derbyshire. 

Miss Bingley retired in the company of the other ladies, and spoke very little for the remainder of the evening, becoming so withdrawn (particularly after the gentlemen once again joined them) that Mrs. Darcy went so far as to ask, gently and discreetly, whether she was indisposed. Caroline shook her head, but found that her acute, confused mortification was too great to do much more. Mrs. Hurst did not notice her misery, but Miss Darcy remained resolutely by her side, and Mrs. Darcy, with every appearance of real concern, spoke quietly to a servant and administered a glass of sweet sherry.

The evening drew to a close, leaving Caroline in very different spirits to those she had felt at its opening – a state of disquiet rendered all the more painful by the selfless solicitude of the two ladies of the Darcy family. Mr. Elliot would not look at her, and Mrs. Ferrars, now a little frightened by the severity of the wound she had inflicted, also kept away.

When the Darcys’ carriage was summoned, Georgiana took Caroline’s hand, and asked her, in a voice at once timid but determined, whether she might call on her in the morning of the next day. Caroline could think of nothing she wanted less, but could also not summon to mind a single, sensible reason why she might plausibly refuse her young friend. She went to bed with an aching head, and a feeling of real, oppressive dread over what the morrow’s visit might bring.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made Mr Palmer and Mr Darcy gentlemen of principle, in opposing the 1815 Corn Law, despite the fact that it was introduced to protect the privileged interests of wealthy landowners (which obviously they both were). I don't know whether men like them really did oppose this legislation, but since it resulted in starvation amongst the poor, especially in Britain's cities (by keeping the cost of grain high, and preventing the importation of overseas grain, even during food shortages), I have characterised them both as being honourable and compassionate, in considering this a Bad Thing (to quote '1066 and All that' - and I am dredging up some school History lessons from a very long time ago with this reference!) Possibly I am being niave in thinking that men of their class would take this view, but we do know from Mrs. Reynolds in Pride and Prejudice that Mr. Darcy was a very good landlord. In any case, since he and Mr. Palmer are fictional characters, I don't see why they can't also be fictitiously noble-minded!
> 
> I may have to take a slightly longer break between posts this time, as I have a couple of very busy work weeks coming up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. :) xxx


	4. The Mortifications of a Morning’s Tête-à-tête (in which Miss Darcy speaks with good intentions and Miss Bingley listens with reluctance)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had this really carefully planned out, so much so that I put the five chapters of contents as the summary for the story as a whole... And then chapter four got really complicated, and I realised it needed splitting in two. So this is now a six-chapter fic. I've posted four and five together though. 
> 
> Sorry it's been a while since posting: been working very long hours (and yet I'm still really worried about job security...) Definitely time to escape the twenty-first century by writing Jane Austen fan fiction!

Miss Bingley was not to be pitied.

Georgiana Darcy might be an heiress with thirty thousand pounds, but she was also a mere chit of a girl, who was so artless as to wish for nothing more than the approbation of her older brother, and so simple as to consider herself fortunate to be marrying a clergyman. Until a year or two ago she had been painfully shy when in society, and on Miss Bingley’s first making her acquaintance, when Miss Darcy was not yet fourteen, Georgiana had been rightly grateful to receive the notice of a superior lady of taste and fashion.

Such were Miss Bingley’s thoughts and feelings when her visitor called the following day. This was unlucky, for Miss Darcy truly did come in the spirit of honest friendship, nor did she take any malicious pleasure in the task now before her. However, it was perhaps difficult for Miss Bingley to comprehend such disinterested motives, for they were far removed from her own disposition, being as she was accustomed to think ill of others and principally of herself.

The faults of Caroline’s character were not hers alone. She was the second child of a wealthy, respectable gentleman, and had been encouraged from infancy to dwell on the superiority of her family’s position. Yet the Bingley fortune had been acquired through trade, and Caroline had also been taught the benefits of disguising the past labour and commerce by which present comforts had been secured. Ambition had been presented to her as both natural and a duty, and just as her brother had always known that it was desirable for him to become the proprietor, rather than the tenant, of a country estate, Miss Bingley understood the importance of raising her family’s reputation through marriage. The differences in both their situations and their temperaments meant that such eventualities were apprehended as pleasant but not urgent by Charles, but a matter of absolute necessity by Caroline: matrimony itself was not enough; rather the marriage ought to be highly advantageous, so that the grandchildren of her parents would be entirely free of the taint of wealth that was made, rather than gained by inheritance.

Much of Miss Bingley’s behaviour and understanding were guided by these edicts and principles. Were her parents alive to witness her recent efforts, they might perhaps have rued what their daughter made of the lessons they imparted, and might even have urged the importance of marital affection as well as aspiration. But no such counsel was available, and Caroline’s habits of self-interested sycophancy were now deeply rooted. She had always been the most determined, artful and ingenious of her family, and from the age of sixteen she had spent her time in steadfast pursuit of those of elevated rank, who might enable the advancement she saw as her life’s endeavour and her due.

That her flattery of the Darcys and the Elliots of this world remained always tinged with envy and secret dislike is perhaps not surprising, and it was these feelings of bitterness that caused Caroline to become temporarily distracted from her matrimonial object, in her bid to be envied by others. Had she not sought this, she might never have pursued Mr. Elliot as she did, or lost sight of the far greater likelihood of success that Sir Walter presented. On the day of Miss Darcy’s visit, Caroline’s mortification was extreme: she resented Miss Darcy for the slights of her brother, for the insult of her pity, and for the extravagant advantages of birth that allowed Georgiana actually to be happy with the prospect of marrying a mere Mr. Snowdon of Lincolnshire.

*

Miss Bingley greeted her guest with an air of haughty grandeur, which conveyed displeasure at Miss Darcy’s presumption, and was also calculated to remind poor Georgiana of every feeling – every impulse towards shyness – that had ever put her at a disadvantage when in society in the past.

“Pray sit down,” said Miss Bingley, on showing Miss Darcy to Mrs Hurst’s small front parlour, the fire being not yet lit in the elegant drawing room which had excited so much admiration the evening before.

“I hope I am not too early,” said Miss Darcy apologetically. “My brother calls on Mr. Gardiner in Gracechurch Street this morning and he brought me here on his route.”

“That is a little out of his way,” remarked Caroline, determined to point out the distance and difference between her sister’s situation and Mrs Darcy’s relatives in Cheapside. “It is no matter. I always rise early. Louisa and Mr. Hurst are still at breakfast.”

“I came here to speak with you,” replied Georgiana plainly, for although she was a little apprehensive, she was nevertheless determined to proceed with the painful errand she had set herself.

“I am always pleased to see you,” allowed Caroline, betraying no hint of pleasure, and seating herself as far away from Miss Darcy as the room would allow.

“And I you,” agreed Georgiana – with perhaps less honesty than was her general habit.

“I shall ring for tea,” declared Miss Bingley.

She rose from her seat and summoned a servant, to whom she gave elaborate, officious instructions, her back turned pointedly on her guest throughout. (Miss Darcy waited patiently, acutely aware that the welcome she was receiving lacked its customary, flattering warmth.)

In truth Miss Darcy had no need of admonitions to be humble, for whilst her reticence was sometimes mistaken for pride, she had never in fact been guilty of this particular vice.

Georgiana Darcy had been born into enormous wealth, but was also born into sadness and misfortune, for her own arrival in the world was the cause of her mother’s departure from it. Thus her earliest years were sombre ones, her chief companions, beyond servants, nurses and governesses, being a grief-stricken father and a brother who had lost his mother at the difficult age of twelve. All this consolidated a natural tendency towards shyness in Georgiana, which the loss of her father during her eleventh year could only exacerbate further. Georgiana thereupon became the ward of her brother and her cousin, and Fitzwilliam Darcy, at three and twenty, soon became the the principal object of all Georgiana’s childish devotion, gratitude and awe.

Mr. Darcy’s affection for his young sister was exceeded only by his sense of responsibility towards her, but he was also a wealthy gentleman with manifold duties and a serious disposition, who had likewise lost his parents young. He was not well-placed to coax Georgiana out of her habitual shyness, particularly since he was not dissimilarly afflicted himself, though his sex, age and rank offered opportunities for a partial cure (and often also prevented others from apprehending his plight). Georgiana had not such advantages or such camouflage, and a romantic misadventure when she was but fifteen was to prove disastrous in robbing her of the confidence which a greater exposure to society might otherwise have afforded. The incident did not assist Fitzwilliam either, for it produced a silence between him and Georgiana on the subject, that was born of pain, embarrassment and guilt. It was the first time that brother and sister were significantly to misunderstand one another, for Georgiana was filled with shame, and thought Fitzwilliam ashamed of her also, whilst Mr. Darcy was above all inclined to blame the affair on supposed failings of his own, in educating and protecting her.

Georgiana turned sixteen, and into her excessively comfortable, but sometimes also lonely, existence burst her bother’s new wife, Elizabeth. Clever, witty, playful and lovely, Elizabeth possessed the remarkable talent of being often able to make Fitzwilliam laugh, and she offered Georgiana a frank, tender, sisterly affection which was unlike anything the young lady had ever experienced hitherto. It was Elizabeth who first introduced Fitzwilliam and Georgiana to the novel idea that their society need not be confined to the excessively fashionable gentlemen and ladies who actively courted their attention (and in whose company both were often exceedingly uncomfortable), but might also accommodate a number of pleasant, respectable country families residing in the general the vicinity of Pemberley – whose number included young people of a suitable age to befriend Georgiana. This was how Mr. Snowdon came to be known to them, and Georgiana had been quietly, though ardently in love with him for a period of around two years.

At last this learned, good-hearted gentleman had come to understand – with the help of Mr Darcy’s patronage in the church, Mrs Darcy’s chaperoning of morning visits, and one or two useful hints dropped by Elizabeth’s Aunt Gardiner – that his own, unpardonable presumption in loving Georgiana back was in fact thoroughly excused by her affectionate family. His attentions were joyfully received by Georgiana herself, and his sincere, though stumbling, proposal accepted with eagerness and alacrity. Miss Darcy was now furnished with the knowledge of what it was to be loved by a gentleman of upstanding character, having formerly discovered what it was to be tricked by a man of contemptible immorality. She was better able to comprehend feelings of mortification and ill-use than Miss Bingley was inclined to suppose, and she broached the topic of Mr. Elliot with real feelings of compassion and concern.

*

Once tea had been ordered, Miss Darcy began the morning’s delicate tête-à-tête as follows:

“Dear Miss Bingley – Caroline – I am come to speak with you on a most distressing matter, and I am very sorry if what I have to tell you causes you pain. Please be assured that it is only out of my high regard for you, for our friendship, and for the friendship between our two families, that I speak in this way, and I must entreat you to stop me if I speak out of turn or in error. I wish only to prevent your being presumed on by one whom I do not believe to be deserving of your esteem.”

Miss Bingley said nothing.

“The person of whom I speak is Mr. Elliot. I am sorry to say that I have heard alarming reports of his past, and indeed his present, conduct. And though I am loath to speak ill of others, or to spread what might be deemed gossip by a listener less charitable than I know you to be, I feel I must tell you what I have learned. My authority is a good one, for it is none other than Mrs. Annesley, whom I trust above anyone, save for my dear brother and Lizzie.”

“Mrs. Annesley!” exclaimed Caroline, in scornful surprise. “What can _she_ have to do with Mr. Elliot?”

Mrs. Annesley was Miss Darcy’s paid companion, and Miss Bingley was offended by the suggestion that a woman in such a position might be on equal footing with an acquaintance of her own circle, let alone a gentleman eligible enough to be her own suitor. However, Mrs. Annesley, though paid, was also much valued by Georgiana, who was in turn affronted by the suggestion that this amiable lady might be beneath the notice of a man of Mr. Elliot’s questionable morals and reputation.

“Mrs. Annesley is connected with Mr. Elliot through her good friend and benefactor, Admiral Croft, who is the tenant of Kellynch Hall in Somersetshire,” replied Georgiana, with an air of aloof dignity.

Miss Bingley was for the moment silenced, and not only by the arrival of the maid bringing tea. The truth was that the authority of Admiral Croft must be considered a good one, for she had often heard Sir Walter boast of this tenant, and she knew that even Lady Russell thought highly of Mrs. Croft, who was the much loved sister-by-marriage of Lady Russell’s great favourite, Mrs. Wentworth. Caroline had been long enough in Bath to know that naval officers and their wives formed an important part of fashionable circles there, and that to be the protégé of an Admiral was not to be sneered at.

“I have heard of Admiral Croft,” Caroline conceded at last, when the parlor maid had departed, and Georgiana took this as her cue to continue her narrative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. :)
> 
> Not to leave anyone hanging, in terms of what Georgiana actually said, here is chapter five...


	5. A Tale of Two Widows (in which Miss Bingley and the reader learn the history of a paid companion.)

The story of Harriet Annesley’s connection to the Elliot family is not in itself long or complicated, although it requires some understanding of this lady’s life and changing fortunes prior to her engagement as Miss Darcy’s companion. These were not extreme, for the lady in question never experienced destitution, but she did suffer loss at a time when she was some years younger than was Miss Bingley at present. Caroline had been made acquainted with some of these particulars before, through her friendship with Georgiana, but in truth she had since forgotten them, because Harriet Annesley was of no material consequence to her.

A more complete history than was in fact ever imparted to Caroline’s impatient ear may be understood by the sympathetic reader as follows.

Miss Harriet Snow married a gentleman of the navy when she was but nineteen years old, and her husband, through the excellence of his service, was made an officer young. However, an act of valor during storm and battle resulted in Lieutenant Annesley being lost at sea before he had an opportunity to make his fortune, and his bride was thus left heartbroken and without a living. Luckily, her prudent parents had at least provided her with a good education, and being also herself resourceful and resilient, and she subsequently took up the post of governess. Mrs Annesley’s young charge was to reach an age where her education was deemed complete in the same year that Admiral Croft returned to England after a long voyage and absence. When the Admiral heard of the full courage and tragedy of James Annesley, an officer for whom he had had high hopes and an even a higher regard, he invited Mrs. Annesley to stay at his home indefinitely, and she soon became the great friend and confidante of the Admiral’s wife, Sophy.

She also made the acquaintance of Georgiana’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was introduced to Admiral and Mrs. Croft by an old friend from his school days, Captain Hamilton. This was the autumn after an unscrupulous, young man, Mr. George Wickham, had attempted to seduce the fifteen-year-old Georgiana at Ramsgate, having been abetted in his efforts by Mrs. Younge, the lady residing with her. The Colonel was Georgiana’s second legal guardian, and his young charge was very much on his mind following her misadventure – particularly since it was _he_ who had taken Mrs. Younge’s part in urging the Ramsgate visit, as a means of promoting Georgiana’s self-assurance and entry into society. He now urgently sought to make amends for his blunder, and seizing upon the Crofts’ warm regard and whole-hearted recommendation, he dispatched a communication to Derbyshire declaring that he had discovered a lady’s companion whose character was incontrovertibly beyond reproach. With Darcy’s consent, he engaged Mrs. Annesley to live with Georgiana and chaperone her in London.

This arrangement remained unchanged until Darcy’s marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, at which point Georgiana eagerly made Pemberley her permanent home, and her new sister her greatest friend. Yet she felt reluctant to see her kind, genteel companion go, and it was pointed out by Mrs. Darcy that since her own parents had not possessed the providence of Harriet’s father and mother, her education was undoubtedly full of gaps that Mrs. Annesley was very well able to help fill. Harriet happily consented to remain with the Darcy family at Pemberley, on the understanding that she might also be claimed by Admiral Croft and his wife at times mutually agreeable to all parties.

*

Shortly after Georgiana’s eighteenth birthday, Mrs Annesley came to join the Crofts partway through a season in Bath, during what was to prove a most eventful twelve-month. Elizabeth Darcy would enter her confinement in the summer, which meant that the family at Pemberley eagerly expected Mrs. Annesley’s return in time for this joyous, anxious occasion; and when Harriet arrived in Bath, she found herself just in time for another happy event, which was the engagement of Mrs. Croft’s brother, Captain Wentworth, to Miss Anne Elliot of Somersetshire. The Crofts proposed that Frederick and Anne should be married from Kellynch Hall, of which they were now tenants, but which was also Anne Elliot’s family home, whilst Captain Wentworth thought of living thereafter in Lyme Regis. With this in view, he engaged an agent to secure a property for himself and his future bride.

It was whilst the household was in this happy bustle of grand plans that Anne brought disquieting news from her father’s household, that a Mrs. Clay, who had been residing with them, had left a note with a maid-servant saying that she was gone to London, and had not been seen since. Subsequent days brought the revelations that Mrs. Clay was indeed in London, and that she was now living, unmarried, in an establishment set up by Mr. William Elliot, who was Anne Elliot’s cousin, and also heir to her beloved, former Somersetshire home.

Harriet Annesley had met Mrs. Clay only once, when Sir Walter Elliot and his oldest daughter condescended to call on the Crofts and Captain Wentworth immediately following Anne’s engagement, bringing Penelope Clay with them. She meant little to Harriet, beyond a consciousness of their being in matching circumstances, in having been widowed young, and in residing in Bath through the generosity of households agreeable to the accommodation of a visiting dependent. She was soon to hear more of Mrs. Clay, however, for it was precisely the similarities in their histories that led Penelope’s bereft father, Mr. Shepherd, to confide in Harriet, when she encountered him one day alone in the morning room of the Crofts’ home.

“You are Captain Wentworth’s agent, I believe,” observed Harriet, on finding Mr. Shepherd resting on a sofa with legal papers spilt onto the floor, and in a state of dishevelment that ill-befitted the responsibilities of his professional office. Harriet hastily helped Mr. Shepherd to retrieve Captain Wentworth’s property deeds, whilst also explaining her own association with the Croft family. “Ah, then you are better placed than was my poor, foolish Penelope!” exclaimed Mr. Shepherd, and – drawn to Harriet’s kind countenance and sorrowful past – he proceeded to tell her the whole of his daughter’s sad disgrace. Harriet tactfully refrained from mentioning that she knew of it already from Sophy and Anne: it was, of course, the talk of Bath at that time, and since she now had it directly from the unfortunate lady’s own father, she heard a good deal more intimate detail than did many who spent the season assiduously seeking out all the most scandalous gossip to be had.

“It is my own fault,” declared Mr Shepherd miserably. “For though I knew Sir Walter and Miss Elliot to be spendthrift and without good sense, I encouraged Penelope to come here as their guest. In truth, I detected a partiality for her on the part of Sir Walter, and I thought it would be fine thing for us all, if she were to be the next Lady Elliot. And now I am punished for my own ambition, for when my brother and I met with Mr. William Elliot in London, he told us without a hint of shame that he had not the least regard for her as a possible wife, that he had no desire for the encumbrance of another man’s children, and that his principal interest was in preventing Penelope from providing Sir Walter with an heir to Kellynch Hall!”

Harriet expressed shocked disapprobation at such unprincipled motives, and her sympathy fortified Mr. Shepherd to continue.

“Ah, dear lady, he is a most unscrupulous man, who does not deserve the name of gentleman, and who has only ever used women ill. I have heard reports that his late wife was wretched throughout her marriage, and it is plain that Miss Elizabeth Elliot actually thought Mr. Elliot partial to _her_. Evidently he transferred his attentions from the oldest daughter to Miss Anne upon her arrival in Bath, and now Miss Anne is thought doubly lucky in having caught Captain Wentworth and escaped her wicked cousin! Alas, _unlucky –_ and yet _cruel –_ Penelope! For what is to become of Cecilia and little George? Penelope seems scarcely to have understood until now that her children must be lost to her, and how are we to explain to _them_ their mother’s disgrace, and that we can no longer welcome her home?”

Harriet asked after the ages of the children, and in directing Mr. Shepherd to think of all that could be done for these two, abandoned infants, said what she could to distract and console him. Mr. Shepherd was grateful and attentive, taking note of all suggestions on how the children might be comforted and their future educations superintended. At length the gentleman also recollected the real purpose of his visit, which was to see Captain Wentworth and Miss Anne about the purchase of a fine, modern house on the outskirts of Lyme. He thanked Harriet for her kindness in listening to and advising him, tidied up his papers and his person, and went to pursue his business with the Captain.

*

This was the whole of Mrs. Annesley’s connection with Mr. Elliot, and the reader may wonder that Georgiana Darcy ever came to hear of it. Indeed Georgiana’s grave interest in the history of Mrs. Clay is every bit as important to our narrative as is Mrs. Annesley part in knowing of it – it explains how it was that Georgiana so thoroughly overcame all inclinations towards reserve, that she chose to speak to Caroline on the topic immediately after breakfast on the morning following the Mrs. Hurst’s birthday; it also accounts for why Georgiana should remember every detail of the tale so minutely that she quickly recognised Mr. Elliot as its villain, whilst Mrs. Darcy, who also heard of the matter from Mrs. Annesley, no longer recalled the exact particulars, and certainly had no notion any more of the names of the principal players involved.

Harriet was not generally given to gossip, and might never have mentioned the story at Pemberley at all, had not Elizabeth Darcy received the news that summer, shortly before giving birth to a son, that her youngest sister was also expecting a child. Lydia Bennet, as was, was married to the very George Wickham whose wickedness was once nearly Georgiana’s undoing, and whilst Harriet knew nothing of this, she knew enough of Lydia’s scandalous elopement to be reminded of Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliot, and to express some concern for the happiness of Mrs. Wickham.

Georgiana was startled, the Wickham marriage being normally scarcely spoken of in her presence, and certainly never in terms implying sympathy for Lydia. But Harriet had lived in the world a good deal more than had Georgiana, knew very well that the impulses of youth may be paid for in a lifetime of regret, and as evidence of this she told Georgiana a little of Mrs. Clay, and her belated realization that disgrace, coupled with Mr. Elliot’s intransigence, must now separate her from her own children.

Georgiana’s attention was caught, and she questioned Harriet minutely on the subject, displaying a fascination for all the particulars which concerned Harriet sufficiently that she later confessed to Mrs. Darcy having shared the tale. Harriet thought that the story was perhaps, on reflection, unsuitable for an impressionable girl, not yet nineteen, who had lived such a sheltered, innocent existence. Elizabeth, however, quickly discerned other reasons why the predicament of Mrs. Clay might have the power to capture the ardent imagination of her young sister.

“Harriet told me that you were distressed by the story of a disgraced widow who recently ran away from Bath,” said Elizabeth to Georgiana one morning, when they were seated alone together at the pianoforte, for the purpose of learning a new duet.

“Oh!” exclaimed Georgiana, colouring deeply, “I am not distressed; not really. It is only that I… I feel I must take note of such sad histories, and feel grateful for… for my own preservation.”

“You are preserved by your own good sense and virtue,” Elizabeth pointed out gravely, “For you did not in fact choose to leave your family and run away.”

Georgiana shook her head involuntarily , and looked down at the silent keys of her instrument.

“Dear sister,” resumed Elizabeth gently. “Is it possible that you do not know your own goodness, when those around you see it so plainly?”

Georgiana still did not raise her eyes, though her fingers now ran lightly up a scale with the unconscious ease of a true proficient. “There are times,” she confessed quietly, “When I cannot help but feel… that perhaps I do not deserve my own good fortune.”

Elizabeth considered this revelation, which shed most useful light on the character and sensibilities of her sister-by-marriage. At length she replied, “Georgiana, you must understand that you, and even poor, foolish Lydia, cannot be blamed in the way that this lady of Harriet’s acquaintance must be blamed. You were both but fifteen when Mr Wickham preyed upon you, whereas I understand that the widow of Bath is twice that age, and is also the mother of two, small infants.”

Georgiana reluctantly conceded that this was true. “And on reflection it is not surprising that you were taken in,” continued Elizabeth, “for not only is Wickham very well versed in deception, but he was also a companion of your earliest childhood, when you knew so few of these. And he was a favourite of your own, dear father, whom he also deceived.”

“Yes,” agreed Georgiana sadly. “It grieves me to think that our generous father was so much taken in.”

“And it grieves _me_ ,” exclaimed Elizabeth warmly, “To think of you suffering the pain of guilt, when you were the one sinned against. The culprit here is Wickham. It was never you, my dear sister, for you did not even proceed with the elopement.”

By these loving arguments did Mrs. Darcy seek to persuade Georgiana that she might now let go of a shame that had plagued her for three, whole years, over a misdemeanor that was contemplated but never in fact committed. At last Georgiana promised to consider her own past conduct in a less censorious light, whilst Elizabeth resolved to bring an end to her family’s habitual silence on this topic. She put it carefully to Mr. Darcy that a wholehearted reassurance of his own forgiveness might alleviate Georgiana’s anxiety, and perhaps also the severity of her timidity when in society; the earnest conversation which subsequently took place between brother and sister was to prove of considerable benefit and relief to the affectionate feelings of both.

Not long after this Mrs. Darcy gave birth to a healthy baby boy, and the joys, novelty and exertions of motherhood soon meant that she remembered only her conversation with Georgiana, but not the particulars of Mr. Elliot and Mrs. Clay, which had brought the conversation about. For Georgiana, however, the names and details took on greater, enlightening significance because of her exchanges with Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, and on being first introduced to Mr. Elliot by Miss Bingley, she immediately feared for her friend that this could be the same Somersetshire gentleman, whose past conduct was so very reprehensible.

Her suspicions were soon confirmed, for during the course of Mrs. Hurst’s party she steered Louisa’s conversation to the subject of Mr. Elliot’s expectations, and learned that he was indeed heir to Kellynch Hall. (She also professed to Mr. Elliot, with a good deal more cunning than her friends ever attributed to her, a great desire to see the Cobb at Lyme Regis – and learned that he had visited the town himself, and that a cousin of his lived there, who was married to a Captain of the navy.) Mrs. Ferrars’ cruelty served to confirm already strong suspicions, and being mindful of how she had been tricked herself by George Wickham, Georgiana resolved at once to speak to Miss Bingley, in order to spare her the distress of any further, future ill-use.

*

The tale was told, and Georgiana could only add her hope that it had not caused Miss Bingley great pain.

Whilst Miss Bingley was not privy to all of the details imparted to the reader of this history, it may be readily supposed that she heard more than enough to upset and vex her. Her mortification was all the greater because these particulars wounded her pride afresh precisely where she had most felt the need to heal: she had wished to show the Darcy family that she was admired after all, but had instead revealed only (and once again) her ambition and her disappointed hopes.

But there was also an even greater source of hurt and anger for Caroline. This was Georgiana’s revelation – made accidentally and with no awareness of its significance – that Mr. Elliot had seduced Mrs. Clay in order to prevent her from marrying Sir Walter Elliot and thereby endangering his own inheritance. It was borne in on Caroline then that Mr. Elliot’s attentions towards herself sprang from the very same cause, and that he had only sought out her acquaintance at all because he had overheard Mrs. Hurst’s indiscretion at Covent Garden and concluded – correctly – that Miss Bingley sought to make a conquest of his elderly cousin.

Caroline was exceedingly proud, and she quickly recollected herself and assured Miss Darcy haughtily that she was entirely mistaken in her suppositions: there existed on Miss Bingley’s part absolutely no attachment when it came to Mr. William Elliot, who was in fact a matter of supreme indifference to her. “There _is_ one whom I believe to be fond of me,” she continued mysteriously, “and he _is_ connected with that family. But you may be quite certain that whatever Mr. Elliot’s feelings may be, I have never looked on _him_ with _any_ admiration at all.”

Whilst this enigmatic response was undoubtedly rash, it offered for Miss Bingley something in the way of immediate solace through the romantic drama and attachments it suggested. In fact it was not believed at all by Miss Darcy in that moment, although she was to recall the claim subsequently with something akin to resigned, regretful understanding. That morning, Georgiana was kind enough simply to allow Caroline the dignity of her denial and her hints, whilst professing herself at once sorry and relieved at having entirely misconstrued Miss Bingley’s situation and feelings.

Miss Darcy then took her leave, and Caroline immediately sought out her sister to tell her of her desire to return to Bath at once. She did not tell Louisa all of her reasons, but she certainly said enough to allow no doubt that Mr. Elliot had caused great displeasure and was never to be thought of again.

“Caroline and I wish to return to Bath,” Mrs. Hurst announced to her husband, who was just then taking a morning nap in the armchair of his understocked library. Mr. Hurst did not enjoy exertion, and was in the habit of resisting it wherever he could. However, on occasions such as this one, where resistance seemed to require considerably more effort than compliance, he invariably found himself very willing to oblige.

The servants were told, the trunks were packed, and they were very soon ready to be gone.

*

Caroline Bingley left London without entirely knowing what Mr. Elliot’s intentions were towards her, or whether it might have been in her power to force a marriage proposal from him, through the threat she posed to his inheritance, if not through the charms and attractions of her person.

But she knew that Mr. Elliot had wounded her pride, and that he had caused Georgiana Darcy to pity her. Furthermore she refused under any circumstances to suffer the indignity and disgrace of a union where her husband’s attentions, as well as his income, were publicly known to be divided between herself and another woman.

She also knew this – it was Mr. Elliot’s express object that his cousin be prevented from marrying again, because what Mr. Elliot desired above all was to become a baronet and the proprietor the Kellynch estate. Miss Bingley believed that the overthrow of at least one, and possibly _all_ , of these designs was in her power.

Her obscure wish for vengeance on Mr. and Mrs. Darcy was forgotten. Her very resolute mission to seek revenge on Mr. William Elliot was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have a backstory for Mr. Snowdon and Georgiana, which features in another story I am writing. I’m not sure when I will finish this (it’s one of about 17 work-in-progress fics on my computer!), but in this story Mr. Snowdon has been promoted to Archdeacon of Lincoln through Mr. Darcy’s patronage, and he first meets Georgiana when he is the clergyman at Kympton (the living originally promised to Wickham).
> 
> I was close to finishing this, when I went back to “Persuasion” to check how Mrs. Clay is introduced, and found a reference to “the daughter of Mr Shepherd, who had returned, after an unprosperous marriage, to her father's house, with the additional burden of two children.” I had totally forgotten that she had children, and it almost seems like Jane Austen does too – or at least she doesn’t think them worth mentioning at the end, when Mrs. Clay runs away! I decided to reinstate them in this story, since presumably their mother leaves them with their grandparents, and effectively chooses Mr. Elliot over them.
> 
> Thank you for reading. :)


	6. Reputations in Peril (in which an engagement is announced and a daughter runs away).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I ended up writing a chapter that seemed like it would work better as two chapters. (This does seem to happen every time I post a multi-chapter fic, so I don’t know why I never see it coming!) I’ve split it in half and posted one chapter this time. I feel that chapter seven (which really will be the epilogue!) still needs a bit of work, but I’ll post it as soon as I can.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has encouraged me with kudos and comments – they really mean a lot to me. :)
> 
> Here’s chapter six:

On the day that Sir Walter Elliot informed his eldest daughter that he was engaged to be married, Elizabeth Elliot disappeared.

For Miss Elliot, the baronet’s news was shockingly unexpected and unwelcome. Although she had suspected Miss Bingley of having designs upon Sir Walter prior to her departure for London, an understanding between the lady and gentleman was reached so precipitously upon her return, that Elizabeth was not even aware that Miss Bingley _had_ returned, until her father announced that Caroline was soon to be his wife. In short, Miss Bingley and the Hursts arrived in Bath on a Wednesday, on Thursday Caroline contrived to meet Sir Walter as if by accident in Sydney Gardens, and on Friday the baronet broke his happy news to his daughter. It is perhaps not surprising under these circumstances that the information, which was imparted without any attempt at tactful prologue, was by no means well received.

Sir Walter had been bitterly disappointed by Caroline’s extended stay in London, the more so because it reminded him of how he had previously lost Penelope Clay to the dissipations of the capital and to his own, much younger cousin. But when he encountered Miss Bingley just as she was entering Sydney Gardens’ much-loved Labyrinth, he learned that she had missed him very much during their separation, and had left London expressly because the city did not afford the pleasure of his company. All this was confessed by Miss Bingley with such unaccustomed bashfulness that Sir Walter could not help but conclude that she admired him excessively, and that her absence had been caused by a very natural overwhelming of delicate sensibilities when faced with such ardent attachment for the first time in her life.

In fact, Caroline’s timidity was nothing more than a skillful imitation of Miss Darcy’s manner when speaking of her engagement to Mr. Snowdon, the recent confidences shared by Georgiana having proved edifying for Caroline in a number of respects. So convincing was her performance, that Sir Walter was immediately moved to give relief to such tender feelings, and by the time they arrived at the Labyrinth’s central, ornamental grotto, he had resolved upon a proposal. They had not been seated together in the grotto above fifteen minutes before the matter was entirely settled between them.

Sir Walter Elliot broke his news on Friday at midday, after Miss Elliot returned from taking the waters. She had risen early to do so at the behest of Miss Carteret, and arrived home to find her father waiting for her and eager to speak to her. The interview was not a happy one, and after Elizabeth had given full vent to her feelings, she then withdrew to her room. She declined to order luncheon and when she also did not appear at dinner, Sir Walter, feeling considerably vexed, instructed the parlour maid simply to leave Miss Elliot’s meal outside her room, and to remove it again when it appeared untouched.

It did not occur to him to punish his much-indulged, first-born child by making her go hungry, but it also did not strike him that he might himself be the first to break the impasse, or that it was perhaps his paternal duty in these circumstances to offer assurances of his daughter’s continued place in his affections and future plans. Thus it was only late in the evening that Elizabeth’s absence was discovered – when her maid, increasingly concerned at the unusual circumstance of having seen and heard almost nothing of her mistress all day, went expressly against the master’s orders, borrowed the housekeeper’s keys to unlock Miss Elliot’s bedroom door, and discovered that the lady was in fact missing from home.

*

No one knew when or how Elizabeth had departed, and the house was in considerable turmoil by the time the under-butler – instructed by Lady Russell, who had been fetched by carriage on the self-appointed authority of the housekeeper – led a search-party of footmen out into the darkened streets. The anxiety experienced by all at Camden Place was acute, and Sir Walter’s and Miss Bingley’s third day as an engaged couple was by no means a happy one. By evening on Saturday Lady Russell was very much alarmed, whilst the groom, the stable boy, the laundry and the scullery maids were all in agreement that Miss Elliot was most certainly dead – very probably robbed, murdered and left in a ditch by gypsies.

Fortunately dinner brought Captain Wentworth to them, and the news that Elizabeth was in fact alive and well, and in Lyme Regis with the Captain’s wife and daughter. So extreme had been Elizabeth’s mortification and resentment at her father’s engagement, that she had embarked on the extraordinary, and most uncomfortable, scheme of travelling overnight by Mail Coach to her sister’s home – a journey of over sixty miles, which had taken the best part of the night, had required three changes of horses, and had been undertaken unaccompanied and without the knowledge or consent of any of her family. 

Whilst the stable boy was disappointed to hear of Miss Elliot being unharmed, for he had found the drama highly invigorating, Sir Walter and Lady Russell were very greatly relieved. Regrettably, this sentiment turned out to be short-lived on the part of Miss Elliot’s father, for he was quickly overtaken by the most profound fit of rage he had ever experienced in his life.

Frederick Wentworth had set off for Bath on horseback and at great speed in the early hours of the morning, and he now entreated his father-in-law to return with him to Lyme Regis, for Elizabeth was at once highly agitated, exhausted and dejected, and very much in need of her father’s counsel as well as his authority. It having been left to Anne to calm and reason with her, Frederick was most anxious for Sir Walter’s co-operation, particularly since he was himself due to depart for North Africa very soon.

However, so angry was the baronet when he considered what Elizabeth had done, that he now chose to emulate the thoughtlessness of his eldest daughter by locking himself in his library and refusing to leave it. It was left to Lady Russell to dispatch a servant to his betrothed, telling Miss Bingley that Miss Elliot was found, and then to propose to the Captain that they travel together to Lyme in her carriage, leaving her groom to attend to the tired horse which the Captain had obtained at a post-house in Wells. Once in Lyme, Lady Russell would attempt to scold and cajole Elizabeth into a reconciliation with her father. 

Captain Wentworth – who had good grounds to believe, from his knowledge of Lady Russell, that her powers of persuasion were considerable – gratefully consented to this plan.

*

Elizabeth Elliot was not accustomed to listening to reason or to reprimand.

“You must see that you have caused your father a great deal of worry and distress,” said Lady Russell, in her initial bid to persuade Elizabeth to return home. “You have behaved most thoughtlessly and recklessly, and I am only grateful that no harm has come to you.”

“It is my father and _that woman_ who are thoughtless, not me. And as for my being in danger, I do not believe my father would even care. He is driven mad by Miss Bingley, who is a despicable temptress.”

“Elizabeth, you know very well that your father holds you in the greatest affection. Only consider what he has endured by you actions.”

“Will no one consider what _I_ have endured by _his_ actions?” demanded Elizabeth bitterly, before dissolving into a storm of noisy tears.

Lady Russell began again, a little more kindly this time (though not so much from a conviction that Miss Elliot deserved compassion, as from the suspicion that no argument could prevail with Elizabeth that did not offer the indulgence to which she was accustomed). “My dear, I do see that it is matter of mortification and pain to you, after being so long mistress of your father’s house, to find that you must give way – and to a woman younger than yourself, who has apparently presumed upon your friendship in order to gain your father’s affections.”

“She is an odious, deceitful, presumptuous… _hussy_. And I shall never speak to her again.”

“But Elizabeth – you must also consider the matter as it will affect the family,” Lady Russell pointed out. “Perhaps it may expose your father to disapprobation in some quarters to be marrying a woman so much younger than himself; and yet she is a gentlewoman of taste and character, and as such, the match may offer the Elliot name some advantages. Her dowry can only help your father manage his affairs, for example, and may even enable you take up residence at Kellynch again.’”

“ I shall certainly never live _there_ with _her_.”

“Sister, do you no longer care for Kellynch?” asked Anne suddenly. “Have you no wish to see our family restored to our own home?”

Elizabeth remained stubbornly silent.

Lady Russell took up the argument again. “Indeed, we should consider the benefits to the estate if your father remarries. If your father were to have _a son_ , _he_ would be heir to Kellynch Hall; _he_ would be the next baronet. Might this not be _preferable_ to the present situation? Would it not be advantageous for a brother of yours to be, for example, the next Sir Walter, rather than for your cousin to become Sir William? Certainly, before my eyes were opened to Mr. Elliot’s character, I would never have wished for such a thing, but knowing what we do now, I confess I feel quite dismayed at the thought of Kellynch in the hands of such a duplicitous, dishonorable man. Seen in this light, might not the match between your father and Miss Bingley even be something to be hoped for?”

“ _I_ certainly never hoped for it,” observed Elizabeth in sullen tones.

“No indeed, I see that you would not,” conceded Lady Russell sincerely. “In truth neither would Anne or Mary, and for all of us who knew and loved your dear mother, it must be felt that your father’s second choice cannot rival the true excellence of his first. And yet he _has_ chosen, and are we really to punish him for it? He has been a widower these many years, and any estrangement from his children, and particularly _you_ , Elizabeth, must surely cause him pain. Do you really wish to hurt him so?”

Elizabeth was not entirely immune to such appeals to filial affection and to self-interest, and at last she conceded peevishly that Sir Walter might perhaps be entitled to choose a wife, and that he might conceivably have chosen worse than Miss Bingley (although he could certainly have chosen better). For the sake of restoring Elizabeth speedily to her father’s home, Lady Russell resolved to make do with this unsatisfactorily remorseless admission. However, she soon found that Elizabeth remained resolutely against any return to Bath at present.

“I can stay here with Anne,” Miss Elliot declared, without thinking to consult Mrs Wentworth on the matter. “She will be very glad of me, once Frederick is gone.”

“ _My_ sister is expected shortly before I sail,” the Captain informed her with some haste. “She will remain to keep Anne and little Sophia company until they both go to Lady Russell’s, before visiting you in Bath. It has been agreed these four months at least.”

“Then you may tell Mrs. Croft that she is not needed,” replied Elizabeth airily. “I dare say she will be glad not to trouble herself.”

“Elizabeth,” said Anne gravely. “ _Sophy_ _is_ needed. And I shall certainly not turn away her generosity, when she has offered it out of the kindest, most selfless of motives.”

But this rebuke was too subtle for Miss Elliot, who was also incapable of imagining herself unwelcome. “Then why should we not both stay? To be sure, the house is by no means grand, but it is not as small as all that!”

“Enough!” said Lady Russell, with considerable rancour now. “Elizabeth, you will return to Bath with me at once! You are entirely ill-equipped to be any assistance to Anne, you will not intrude on these last days before Frederick sails, and you will go home to your father, and apologize sincerely for your shocking behaviour! What is more, it is imperative that you now do whatever you can to restore your own good name and reputation, for you must know that we were obliged to send out servants to look for you _in the streets at night!_ What do you suppose people will conclude after that, if you are not seen again soon in Bath, and if it is known that you are no longer residing under your own father’s roof?”

“But I am only come to Anne’s!” exclaimed Elizabeth, resentful but also a little fearful at last. “Why should they conclude anything at all?”

“What would you conclude yourself, if you were to hear of such circumstances?” demanded Lady Russell severely. “Your behaviour has certainly been disgraceful, and you must understand that if we do not act now, it could in fact result in real, lasting disgrace!”

In truth, Lady Russell suspected that once Sir Walter’s engagement was widely known, then the real motive for Elizabeth’s flight was likely to be all too readily believed. However, she was determined to punish Elizabeth for her ill-consideration, particularly towards Anne, and she also urgently sought to frighten Miss Elliot home: to Lady Russell, it seemed that the real danger to the family’s reputation came from Sir Walter’s and Elizabeth’s possible exposure to ridicule, and the damage could only be greater with every conspicuous, childish protest on the part of Elizabeth. Certainly widowed gentlemen have been known to marry much younger women before now; however, the circumstances of Miss Bingley being of an age with Sir Walter’s younger daughters, and of his oldest daughter being still unmarried, undoubtedly offered opportunities for derision to those disposed to seek them out. All in all, Lady Russell was inclined to feel that the dignity of Sir Walter and his whole family would be best preserved if his daughters appeared to approve the union, and did not behave in any way which might draw public attention to its possible unsuitability.

*

Deeply alarmed at the thought that her clandestine departure might be misinterpreted as a loss of propriety and virtue, Miss Elliot returned expeditiously, and considerably chastened, to Bath. Her tearful apology, born more of trepidation than of true repentance, was enough to secure her father’s magnanimous forgiveness, and Captain and Mrs Wentworth were mercifully left in peace. The squalls of her father’s household soon paled in comparison to whatever real tempests the Captain might encounter on his voyage, although they also helped Anne and Frederick to appreciate still more the happy affections which prevailed within their home at Lyme.

The peace that reigned in Camden Place as Sir Walter prepared for his forthcoming nuptials was by no means perfect. Fortunately, Miss Bingley was sufficiently satisfied with her victory over Miss Elliot, and sufficiently determined that it should not be snatched from her, that she took some pains to flatter both father and daughter into kindness towards each other. Indeed, Caroline Bingley behaved with charm and accomplished elegance throughout her engagement, thereby ensuring that the match between herself and the baronet gained greater respectability than it did notoriety. Lady Russell was relieved, and she felt vindicated in her decision to reconcile Elizabeth to the marriage: at the very least, she reasoned, she had succeeded in saving Sir Walter from the scheming clutches of another Mrs. Clay.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. The epilogue is coming soon! xx


	7. (Epilogue) The Heir to Kellynch Hall (in which all is well that ends not so very ill.)

I believe it is customary in narratives such as this one for the author to reward the patient reader at the end of her tale, by recounting the great alterations and sobering humility experienced at last by its faulty heroine. Reassurances are generally given of the serious lessons learned, and of the lady in question being not only thoroughly happy with her chosen path in life, but also entirely deserving of such unalloyed contentment.

Regrettably, it is not possible on this occasion to offer an abundance of comforting reflections of this kind, for whilst Caroline achieved her ambition of marrying a baronet, no great morals were understood in the process, the joy which followed was by no means perfect, and in temperament and behaviour Miss Bingley was not so very different from what she had been before. It was not in her husband’s power to offer edifying instruction to his much younger wife in matters of sense or self-improvement, and he never succeeded in setting any great example in kindness, amiability or indeed good manners.

However, it is certainly possible to say of the second Lady Elliot that she always appeared to very great advantage next to the selfish silliness of both her husband and his eldest daughter, and that she exercised far greater responsibility than either of them in ensuring that they all lived within their combined income – or at least not so far beyond it that excesses could not be managed by relatively short periods of enforced economy. Sir Walter was no longer obliged through financial imprudence to lease his own home whilst residing himself in rented property, and as a result of this providence, Lady Elliot forged valuable alliances with both Lady Russell and Mrs. Wentworth. Whilst Anne and her husband never managed to feel precisely fond of Caroline, they achieved the form of resigned, benign accommodation of her – as she did of them – which so often characterizes the relations formed through the marriage of our closest kin to those who are then kin by law.

Caroline had consented to become Sir Walter’s wife at a time when she was driven by bitter resentment, mortified pride and a strong thirst for vengeance against her future husband’s cousin. These are not conventional motives for matrimony, and perhaps they are not ideal accompaniments to attempts at domestic harmony. Yet whilst there have certainly been happier marriages, the reader may rest easy knowing that the felicity of the couple has never been blighted to an extent that warrants great sorrow or pity. Sir Walter’s vanity was such that he was incapable of comprehending any grounds for becoming his wife that did not involved real admiration for his character, rank and well-preserved good looks; and he continued to feel long after his marriage that his success – in securing the hand of a very handsome woman, who was half his age at the time of their betrothal – spoke very well of his appeal and distinction.

Caroline, meanwhile, was never entirely dissatisfied with her choice, for the compensations of the match were sufficient that they always outweighed its disadvantages. She took considerable pleasure in belonging to the first family in the Elliots’ part of Somersetshire, and in being married to a man whose consequence was much greater than Mr. Hurst’s. Furthermore, in her attachment to Sir Walter’s estate, she conceived feelings stronger and more sincere than any she ever managed to cultivate towards Sir Walter himself. These she indulged by superintending a number of elegant improvements to the house and grounds, and by occasionally urging her husband to do a little more for his tenantry.

*

Of course, it is also important to our narrative that Lady Elliot was to prove a most affectionate, devoted mother, and her greatest source of domestic happiness soon lay in the transformation of all the ambitions she had once held for herself, into very determined hopes and schemes for the future of her child.

Less than eighteen months after her marriage, Caroline gave birth to a son. Thus her fate was not to suffer the disappointment once experienced by Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn, for little Walter became the heir to Kellynch Hall, whilst Mr. William Elliot was forced to content himself without the promise of a baronetcy in his future. The eagerness with which Sir Walter awaited the next edition of his favourite volume – the Baronetage wherein a record of this noble offspring would appear in print – may well be imagined.

Whether the reader feels these to be fortunate circumstances or otherwise, will surely depend upon which of the gentlemen and ladies with an interest in the Elliot seat and title, has appeared to be the most deserving. There can be little doubt that amongst those related to the family by blood, Mrs. Wentworth would have made the best custodian of the estate, but as the second daughter of a baronet, Anne had never been in line to inherit. Nevertheless, Mrs. Wentworth did reap some benefits from her father’s marriage, for after Miss Bingley’s dowry and income restored Sir Walter to Kellynch Hall, and after Admiral and Mrs. Croft generously agreed to the breaking of their lease to accommodate Sir Walter’s sudden good fortune, the Crofts decided that the time had come to acquire a property of their own. On the advice of Captain Wentworth, they settled on a plot of land near Lyme on which to build a very pleasant house; Frederick and Anne were their near neighbours, and a growing number of little Wentworth nieces and nephews soon became their most frequent, and most welcome, visitors.

Lady Elliot allowed the former intimacy between herself and the Darcy family to cool after a time. Once she was herself the mistress of Kellynch Hall she no longer saw great advantages in receiving invitations to Pemberley, and she also felt that the full triumph of her illustrious marriage could not be enjoyed in a place, or with people, where so much was known of her past disappointments. She was therefore content to hear of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy principally through her brother and his wife, although she and the Hursts were guests at the wedding of Miss Georgiana Darcy to Mr. Snowdon of Lincoln. Afterwards Mr. and Mrs. Bingley often assured her of Mrs. Snowdon’s very great happiness in the union, but Lady Elliot was never able to give much credence to such optimistic reports.

Harriet Annesley remained in the employment of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy after Georgiana’s marriage, for there were soon three little Darcy offspring in need of tutelage and companionship. Mrs. Annesley continued to visit the Crofts every year, and it was always her great wish that the two families – who heard much of each other’s kindness and affections, daughters and sons, nieces and nephews – should one day meet. However, since one family lived in the north of England and the other lived not far from its south-west corner – and since Mr. and Mrs. Darcy never spent as much time as was considered fashionable in London, and since Admiral and Mrs. Croft preferred Bath over the nation’s capital anyway – the good widow’s modest ambition proved difficult to accomplish, despite the Crofts’ acquaintance with Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. As yet, the households know each only by proxy.

Miss Elizabeth Elliot consented to take up residence with her father and his new wife at Kellynch Hall, and it happened that Sir Walter was by no means averse to having her there, for he soon found her a useful ally whenever he wished to avoid doing something his wife demanded of him, or whenever he sought to do something of which his wife disapproved. The everyday tranquility of this arrangement was such as could be expected in a household where two, equally determined, young ladies habitually, willfully gave contradictory orders to the servants, and where the master of the house had no wisdom to offer in reconciling even the most trifling of differences.

They were, however, all three united in their satisfaction that Mr. William Elliot was disinherited through the birth of Walter, an infant whose character was shaped by growing up in a home where the surest method of procuring whatever he desired was to tell any one member of his family that his wishes had been denied by the other two. Lady Russell endeavored to intervene where she could, and was repeatedly astonished by how resolutely resistant to any form of persuasion all four members of the Elliot family contrived to be.

*

Such are the conditions that currently preside at Kellynch Hall, and it remains to be seen how both his wife and his daughter will behave after Sir Walter’s life eventually draws to a close. Whilst he remains in excellent health and in broadly good spirits (although he struggles to retain the services of many of his servants), his family is acutely aware that such happy circumstances cannot continue forever.

The subject of Miss Elliot’s possible fate is sometimes touched upon at Uppercross, the home of Sir Walter’s youngest daughter, Mary. On these occasions the master of that household can be heard to declare, “When the time comes, we shall endeavour to assist her should she need it, but on one point I am resolute: you sister is _not_ coming to live _here.”_ Mr. Charles Musgrove is in general a charitable, well-meaning gentleman, and on any other matter his wife would probably object strenuously to such assertions being made without any consultation of her own wishes. But although the existence of Mary Musgrove is undoubtedly a fortunate one, her oldest sister, Elizabeth, remains one of the few people who has never indulged her in the ways she feels necessary to her health and happiness. As a result, the business of Elizabeth Elliot’s plans upon the death of her father remains a rarity in the Musgrove household, for it is a topic on which husband and wife are always entirely at one.

In the home of the Wentworths, the question of Elizabeth’s future is given more serious, compassionate consideration, but here it is the family’s frequent guest, Lady Russell, who habitually overrules any idea that Miss Elliot should take up residence in Lyme. For her part, Lady Russell is equally determined that the first-born child of her dearest friend – who was Sir Walter’s first wife, Eliza – should never be allowed to experience neglect or destitution, and that the duty of protecting and providing for Elizabeth should under no circumstances fall to Captain and Mrs. Wentworth. Accordingly, Lady Russell has resolved it in her mind that she will offer Elizabeth a home herself, before allowing such a sacrifice to be made by Anne.

The reader who is acquainted with the history of Anne and Frederick Wentworth may well feel that, although never malicious in intent, Lady Russell has not always been of service to this commendable couple in the past. However, it must surely be allowed that she is well on her way to making amends for former mistakes, in her willingness to take in Mrs. Wentworth’s unmarried sister (who is unlikely to prove the most grateful, accommodating of dependents). Since the marriage of Sir Walter, Lady Russell has also made it her business to invite Miss Elliott as her guest every year for a season in Bath. This generosity has been not so much prompted by any eager anticipation of their future companionship, as by the possibility that the eventuality could be avoided altogether, through Elizabeth’s being placed in the way of a willing, eligible gentleman in need of a wife.

As yet, no such obliging bachelor has presented himself, and Elizabeth is sufficiently concerned by this deficit that she has condescended to lower her sights to potential suitors who are not baronets or even their heirs – particularly since it is now clear to her that supposed, future baronets are sometimes thwarted in the attainment of their lofty expectations.

Miss Elliot’s hopes, and the hopes of everyone connected with her, continue to rest with the adventures and opportunities to be found in the fine, fashionable city of Bath in Somersetshire.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you're interested, I estimate that Sir Walter is probably 56 in this story, Elizabeth Elliot 31, Anne 29 and Caroline 28. [This means that Caroline is actually very slightly older than half Sir Walter's age when they get engaged, but I think that the Baronet's maths would probably err on the side of flattering his own ego.] The story takes place roughly two years after Persuasion and four years after Pride and Prejudice - so this would mean that Pride and Prejudice is set around 1813 [effectively its publication year, rather than the year before.] I think the dates are close enough, and approximated enough, that the post-story settings of both novels are fairly plausibly aligned.)
> 
> Thank you for reading this, and a big thanks for all the comments, kudos and encouragement. They really do mean a lot to me.
> 
> This is my second go at writing (and crucially completing!) a Jane Austen fanfiction. I had fun writing it, imagining these characters meeting up, and envisaging their futures after Jane Austen's stories ended. I'm very happy if other people enjoyed it too. :)


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